It has been so long since I’ve written, I am almost not sure
I remember how. I have no agenda for this post, or any thought to where it may
go. I miss writing. I am not sure I remember how to dig down deep and examine
the broken shards of my heart & soul & put them onto paper. But, tragedy
& loss affect us so deeply and entirely that we must force ourselves to
examine those shards periodically or we fall apart all together. They start
forcing their way out into everyday life if we refuse them. There is always an
underlying sadness and ache that is within everything we do. It is important for
me to realize this and try not to mask it, but to let it co-exist with happier
days. To deny this sadness is to let it overtake the happy. To recognize and
acknowledge it allows them to be together but separate. But it is so hard. The
memoires flood back at the most unexpected moments, violently and without
warning. Hateful are they, in their attack on my vulnerable emotions. Vicious
in their relentlessness. I don’t want to remember, but I don’t want to forget
either. Is there no middle ground? I understand the meaning of trauma and
torment much more than I wish to. And then there is just ache. I miss my son,
so very much. I miss the sound of his voice and the happiness in his laugh. I
miss every single thing about him. And even with time, that doesn’t get easier
or the feeling of loss less severe. It seems like yesterday he was standing in
my doorway, yet it seems like 100 years since I have heard his words. Time is a
bizarre thing. Grief, even more strange. It interweaves itself into every
aspect of life. So that every day, every instance you feel more removed from
other people. More different, more unlike them. More capable of understanding
others, but yet less capable of being understood. Every action and reaction is
affected. Life is changed in death.
